Friday, December 9, 2016

I know there are other despondent lonely people who are
grieving the death of a spouse, so I sent many prayers your way. Many were
caregivers to their love ones because like me they wanted to be near him/her as
long as possible. Others were not able to be caregivers for various reasons;
but they still loved their spouse.

My husband suffered five strokes and he had Dementia. Prior
to his fatal illness he was such a sweet caring person who loved me dearly. The
ones, reading this if you have never experienced someone with Dementia while dealing
with disabling strokes too; then you might not understand fully the stress
factor—I know I didn’t know what Dementia and strokes did to the person.

My husband’s strokes affected the part of his brain that
finally destroyed his appetite. Until then, I fed him anything that he would
eat. I constantly cooked his favorite dishes and he ate well for months; and
then about three months before his death in September he stopped eating. He
would slap it away or knock the plate out of my hand. The only nourishment he
would consume was chocolate Boost. I put a straw in the bottle and tell him it
was chocolate milk. He would eat mashed potatoes and ice-cream sometimes, and
other time he would slap it away.

I gave him his medication on schedule-- and found he would
squirrel (hold) the pills in his cheeks, even though I would ask him if he
swallowed the pills; then he would lift his tongue to show me—no pills. I began
to find pills in the carpet and on the window sills; so I began crushing them.

The things he hated most were baths, shaves, haircuts,
manicures, pedicures and wearing clothes. He got to the point of being abusive
by hitting, kicking and pulling my hair. Please remember if this is what is
happening in your life; they do not know what they are doing. I had to wear
long sleeves in the summer to shop at the grocery store because of the bruises
on my arms. He would grab my hand and twist my fingers and push them back
trying to break them. I had to take off my wedding rings because he fractures
the first bone of that digit and have rings cut off another finger.

When he no longer could sit up by himself---I would pull him
into a sitting position to shave and give him a haircut; by straddling him with
my legs. I was always afraid he would hurt my leg that was broken twice the
same day--in 2014—it has a plate and two screws in it---and I am very careful
not to break it again.

My brother-in-law John took all the guns and knives out of
his room because he started threatening me with them; it was only words, but it
was all new to us so my family tried to protect me. And, I will not lie he made
me cry many times; I would walk on the porch to be alone to cry. Yes, I had
pity parties, but no one came, but me.

Early in the mornings, he was almost his sweet self for a
few hours, I would sit and read to him and he would sleep after any breakfast
he would eat or drink Boost. Then, when 3:00 to 4:00 pm came--he would become a
different person. He would yell mama- mama loudly—that is what he called me. He
also thought I was his employee. I cannot tell you how many times he fired me
at night; then in the morning he would tell me about terminating that mean nurse.
I tried sleeping in my bed in another room using a baby monitor so I could hear
him---most of the time he would stay awake calling me to come there---I got
very little sleep and I lost weight because taking care of him was demanding
and it consume most of the day and night.

I finally decided to sleep in a recliner outside his room so
he knew I was near and it seemed to work better. He still kept his all night
yelling and calling me in his room. The doctor increased his medications that
made him relax and sleep so that worked for a while. It seemed nothing worked
for very long. I seem to inhale with momentarily joy and exhale with disappointment
as his medications were changed—promising much, but delivering little.

I was told by many—that I should take time for myself; go
shopping, to lunch with friends---to get away for two hours for alone time. (I
think of that often now since I am alone---I can tell you it is not that wonderful.) The only time I left him I
went to town to buy food and his medicine. My sister Paula or my
brother-in-law John would stay with him. And, most of the time if he was not
sleeping, he was yelling for me. When I returned home he would chastise me for
leaving him and staying gone so long. I never gave up trying to get him to eat—I
tried fooling him by going into his room every few hours telling him it was
breakfast, lunch or dinner—and a few times it worked.

Our Sweetie Angel my Pomeranian died in March from a kidney disease,
he was almost 13 years old---this nearly killed me and I feel he had another
strokes at this time because he became worse. He had his last doctor visit in
the office and that was a stressful time. My sister helped me get him in his wheelchair
to take him to his appointment because he could not stand or walk in April and
his eye sight was getting worse. Paula worked so she helped me take him when
she could---otherwise I was on my own.

We lowered his mattress because when he could stand he would
fall trying to get in bed---it was so high. I have pulled and pushed him onto
the high mattress many times. (I cannot believe I am still alive from all I
went through---however, I never thought of myself until it was over and I
wonder how I did it—I suppose love did it.)

He would roll off his bed, or, fall out of his wheelchair
when I left him for a minute, before he was bed-bound I had to pull him into
his wheelchair and onto his bedside toilet. The last time he was on his bedside
toilet he leaned over and fell off and I called the EMT’s. This year before he
passed away the EMTs came to our home at least nine times. I love those guys—they
are the best---and whatever they are paid it not enough.

After he was completely bedridden, I used an urinal for him
to urinate. And, I used a large pad to put under him for a bowel movement. I
turned him on his side which was best because I had better control; and it was
comfortable for him. He hated being washed afterwards, but I had to do it while
dodging his kicks.

My husband was six feet and weighed 185 to 210 most of his
life. When he passed away he was skin and bones and it hurt him to be touched
and it broke my heart to see it.

About three weeks before he died his doctor put him under Hospice,
because I wrote to him it was time. And, what a blessing this was in more ways
than one. I should have done it sooner, and I attribute not doing it sooner to
being a little insane at the time. They assure me that I had done everything
right and for me not to worry because they were there for both of us. These people
are truly Angels. He got a hospital bed which was a blessing even for the short
time. He had almost completely demolished his bed by kicking the end, the
headboard and the side boards.

His pain became too much even with the powerful drugs
Hospice provided for him. His nurse called the Hospice doctor and he was taken
to Haven Hospice. He was put in a medicated coma—is how I would describe it and
I stayed with him most of the two days and nights he lived as well as my two
sisters, Wanda and Paula. This was the time when I needed my family and they
were there for me. The ones who could not come called and kept in touch, these
were the ones that loved him.

In closing I hope my story might enlighten and give solace
to someone who needs it, and know that you are not alone. I am not saying it was
easy and although I miss him; I would not want him back to suffer.My Clinton and Sweetie Angel are together
now, and this thought keeps me going forward with my life.

About Me

My writing is very important to me, as I live to write. I also love living in the country with my pets. I am a country girl and I appreciate all the beauty of what life has to offer away from the concrete jungle of the big city.